Kneeling in Atonement
Rookie: Baek Jaesung 21
“I see people over there.”
No Yeonji spotted a tiny dot beyond the cactus field. The moving specks were unmistakably different from monsters. They had to be humans.
“It’s them! That’s Sunwook!”
Hwang Minjun, the tank from Kim Sunwook’s party, shouted. Members from both Jaesung’s party and Kim Sunwook’s party hurried over. They’d reunited with their lost comrade.
“Thank God! Jaesung, you okay?”
Sujin hopped straight into Jaesung’s arms. He gave her an awkward smile in return.
“Hanging in there.”
“‘Hanging in there’? Wait—what’s wrong with your right arm?”
Sujin already knew everything from their phone call. Their little chat had been pure theater. Kim Sunwook and Jang Hana kept stealing glances at Jaesung.
“Got poisoned. Right arm’s dead.”
“Poison!? But you’re a healer. And didn’t you have that antidote?”
The word antidote made the couple flinch in unison—like killers spotting the murder weapon. Luckily, no one noticed their twitch.
“Sunwook. Glad you’re awake. How’d you pull through?”
“Uh… guess the poison just wore off after some time.”
Sunwook had no choice but to lie to his approaching party. Admitting he’d stolen another group’s antidote would tank his rep.
The dungeon hunter world was small. One bad rumor, and you were out—unless you had overwhelming strength to bulldoze through it.
If word gets out about that one slip-up… our party’s finished.
Kim Sunwook couldn’t steady his pounding heart. He forced a calm expression and looked to the others. Reuniting was a miracle, but he couldn’t relax until they escaped the dungeon.
“Sandstorm threw us off. Only thing was to blindly head toward a wall.”
Hwang Minjun clicked his tongue. The scorching desert heat had everyone on edge. Constant monster spawns were already brutal, draining stamina nonstop.
“We’re heading one way at least, but it might not be back where we came from.”
Direction lost to the storm, the group trudged blindly onward.
“What if we hit the wrong room like this?”
“Then we backtrack and try another. Rooms are finite anyway—takes time, but we’ll find the path. Long as it hasn’t shifted.”
Kim Sunwook’s party chatted as they went. He glanced up at Baek Jaesung, who walked ahead with a blank face. Since linking up, he’d gone quiet.
Sunwook couldn’t shake his unease—like iron shackles squeezing his whole body. Jang Hana felt the same.
A door appeared ahead. Hwang Minjun bolted first and cracked it open.
Beyond lay gentle hills—not barren dunes, but lush with grass and trees.
“Not our way.”
Hwang Minjun shook his head and shut it. Their path should’ve led to a small cave next.
“Hold up, let’s reorient. Zombie room faces the cave one, so diagonal from here should do it.”
“Bad luck, we loop back to zombies.”
“Nothing for it.”
They recalibrated and pressed on. Stamina low, pace slower than before. Monsters hit more often too. Hours later, they finally reached the cave room door.
“Lucky break. Nailed it first try. Odds were fifty-fifty.”
Hwang Minjun grinned. They pushed into the next room.
*-*-*
The cave room was just that—a cave. We lit our lanterns to pierce the gloom. The entry chamber was decently wide. Travel took longer than expected, so we decided to camp here for the night.
“Monsters here are just small kobolds. Still, no slacking. We ran into new types in the desert room we hadn’t seen before.”
Kim Sunwook briefed us coolly. His eyes flicked to my right arm nonstop.
We picked a campsite and pitched tents. Sunwook sidled up to me.
“Jaesung-ssi… uh, how’s the arm?”
I shrugged coldly.
“No feeling, so who knows.”
“Sorry… We’ll get you out fast as we can.”
Tents up quick. Watches set—Sunwook’s party took them all. The pecking order was crystal clear.
We crashed right away. I didn’t sleep, just monitored the shifts.
Jang Hana had second watch. I set an alarm and dozed. Felt like five seconds, but opening my eyes, first shift change was here.
Sensing outside, I heard rustling—first watch handing off to Hana.
I stepped out. She sat by the lantern, looking beat. She jumped at the sight of me.
“J-Jaesung-ssi! Not sleeping?”
“Woke up.”
I plopped down casual-like. She fidgeted hard, eyes darting to gauge me.
I was her savior, plain and simple. Without us, her party would’ve wiped ages ago. Her boyfriend Sunwook too—dead without my hand.
Plus, she’d wronged me. Sure, I’d baited it, but she didn’t know that. In our dynamic, I was super top dog.
“You look tired. Go crash.”
She murmured it. Her gaze locked on my right arm.
I ignored her. She fumbled, eyes shifting, then tried again.
“Uh… arm okay?”
“Dunno.”
I kept it icy on purpose. She flinched. Her overreactions to nothing were hilarious. Deadpan, I added:
“Arm’s nothing. Heart hurts worse.”
“Ugh… Sorry again. No excuse…”
Awkward, heavy air filled the chamber. Exactly what I wanted.
I stood, closing in slow. She feared me but didn’t flee.
No hiding spots anyway. Her only rebellion: look away.
“You really sorry?”
“Y-yes… Sorry.”
“Sorry people don’t keep necks so stiff. Since earlier.”
She bowed her head fast.
Taming starts with submission. Build from surrender, erode the mind—that’s the basics.
“That’s your sorry? Forehead might touch sky.”
“Urk…”
She got it quick. I winced, clutching my right hand—level 4 acting made fake pain real. She dropped to her knees. Arms and forehead hit dirt—classic dogeza.
“Truly sorry. I’ll take responsibility.”
She begged in humiliation. But her face showed more fear and regret than shame.
I loomed arrogant. Gripping her weakness, threatening—it thrilled.
“Parties backstabbing saviors don’t last. If this leaks, guild might punish. Maybe demonic label…”
“I’ll take responsibility—just don’t tell anyone!”
“Demonic” hit hard; she snapped her head up, desperate. I met her eyes cold.
“Who said lift head?”
“S-sorry.”
She bowed again, words tumbling.
“Please, don’t tell. Bad rep means no more work.”
“Don’t wanna ruin folks either. No point making enemies if things end smooth.”
“R-right?”
“If they end ‘smooth.’”
I crouched, staring down at her prone form. Then commanded:
“Head up.”
“Y-yes…”
She lifted with a tiny whimper. Our faces inches apart—under five centimeters.
“…”
She averted eyes. Too close for non-lovers. But I ordered:
“Eyes on me.”
She turned back. My left hand stroked her cheek. She twitched at touch but didn’t resist. Skin rough from fieldwork.
“You will take responsibility, right?”
“Yes. For this… I will. If arm goes bad, we’ll pay full compensation…”
“How responsible do you feel, Hana-ssi?”
I cut her off sudden. Hand still on her cheek.
“Very… responsible.”
“Kid answer. Flip it: what would you do to make good?”
She blinked confused at my bluntness.
“W-what do you mean…?”
“Literal. Words are cheap. Anyone says ‘responsibility.’ Acting’s different. So words mean jack.”
She had no comeback. My ramble was empty anyway—just pressure tactic.
It worked gold. Sweat beaded her forehead.
“You’re scheming now, right? ‘How to shut this guy up easy?’ Party rep matters more than my arm, yeah?”
“N-no! I really feel it… not just words.”
I smirked sly.
“Really?”
My face inched closer. She didn’t back off—couldn’t, flat on belly, just face up.
Distance zeroed.
Soft lips met. Her pupils reflected me, trembling unstable. But no pull away.
Our kiss dragged slow. Five minutes, lips locked.
“Th-this…”
“Just the start.”
I moved behind our tent—hidden from hers. Sat on flat ground.
“Come.”
She didn’t refuse—couldn’t. Like spellbound, she approached. I dropped pants.
“This… ain’t right. I got a boyfriend…”
“Nobody lives perfect. You know that best.”
I chuckled. Her face stiff, she spoke.
“This… pay with body?”
“Who knows? Hate it? Walk. But then… I’d question your ‘responsibility.’”